Sine Qua Non
by Sins of Angels
Summary: The Boy Who Lived has been missing for five long years. Now he's been found and confronted with his seemingly impossible destiny: Voldemort is back, and the world needs him. Completely AU!


**Disclaimer**: None of these lovely brain children are mine! Harry Potter and co. are property of one J.K. Rowling.

**Sins of Angels**: So, writer's block sucks. I know, I haven't written anything in, well, ages. And don't expect this to go too far. Got a streak of inspiration for original stories that overtook the whole fanfiction thing, but a good bout of silly fanfiction is good for the soul.

Also, I blame Opalish. For everything. Mostly for being brilliant. This story is heavily inspired by her tale Invictus. Hopefully you guys will like where I'm taking this, and how AU I'm going.

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**Chapter 1 – Garindahm**

_~"Without which, there is nothing."_~

Dumbledore.

Maybe he was alive. Maybe she could get to him now. The newspaper said it was 1995. Was Dumbledore still alive in 95? She couldn't remember, not anymore. Besides, she had to keep moving. Keep going forward. Don't look back.

Okay, maybe look back once. Yep. Still following. She closed her eyes, saw a memory, a very old one. The next step she took, she turned, and there was a _Crack!_ and she was gone.

The two looked around. "Did you see where she went?" one of them asked after a moment. The other sighed.

"Honestly, she's obviously Apparated. Let's get back to Lucius."

The first man grumbled under his mask. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do that." He started walking back the way they had come in silence, until – "Didn't she seem odd to you?"

"Odd? She seemed like an old woman, except when she shot that curse at Rosier. Then she seemed like an old crone who got lucky. Probably just got startled, Apparated to the wrong place."

"Yeah. Probably." A few more minutes. "Still, though. She seemed…familiar." The other man didn't say anything.

The woman took a gasp and turned around sharply. She lost them. Can't follow her if she Apparates. She should've done it earlier. Now she's out of breath and has quite a way to walk still. Though no doubt the school would have protections. She looked around, the cool night air unfamiliar. It had been too long, far too long. Surely Dumbledore had some sort of surveillance. She was right, when after half an hour of staring through the gate, a figure appeared walking towards it from the inside. She jumped up immediately, not recognizing the woman.

"Please, I have to speak with Dumbledore!" she pleaded, although it didn't seem to convince her guide. "I must tell him. Need to tell him. Need to find Harry Potter." The doors opened slightly, creaking in the process. The approaching woman smiled comfortingly, stopping just short of where the barrier seemed to be. "Please, let me see Dumbledore. He's…he's still alive, right?" She rummaged in her robes and pulled out her wand, offering it to the smiling guard. "Look, I just want to talk to him. Please. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

The guard nodded, took the wand from the proffered hand, and then swiftly punched the pleading old lady, knocking her out with ease. She fell softly, never really touching the ground, and at the beckoning of the guard's wand, levitated behind her as she walked back towards the castle.

"She says she needed to see you," the woman told Dumbledore in his office. The old man sighed.

"Was it necessary to knock her unconscious, Alice?" Dumbledore asked. Alice shrugged, handing over the wand.

"Look, I didn't know who or what she was, plus she was kind of distraught. Like, really distraught." Alice turned her gaze to the floor. "I just wanted to check her over without any trouble. Besides, she should be coming around soon." After a few moments of the Headmaster staring at her, Alice added a muttered "sorry."

"Well, this will do, then. Go reclaim your post, please. I'm sure I can handle a wandless old woman," Dumbledore said with a slight smile. Alice nodded and walked out of the office. The Auror was right, the woman started coming around within a few minutes. She sat up and looked around wildly, her eyes coming to rest on the Headmaster's face.

"Albus Dumbledore!" she said in near a whisper. "Listen! Harry Potter, we need him! Where is he?"

Dumbledore looked at her sadly. "Harry Potter is gone. Please, tell me your name." He offered a hand to help her over to a chair. But instead the woman's hand traveled to her face where it trembled over her mouth.

"Gone? Harry Potter is d-dead?"

"We…we don't know," the Headmaster said sadly. The woman finally accepted his offered hand and was helped to the nearest chair. "Harry Potter has been missing for five years now. We've been trying to find him, but with the war, it…" What could he say? That they'd given up hope? That they've put all their hopes and efforts on the shoulders of another boy, one who the prophecy can't have referred to? That for all their connections and work, the Order didn't have the faintest idea where Harry Potter was, or if he was even still alive? No, the poor woman seemed at wit's end already.

"When did _he_ come back?" the woman asked after a few minutes of silence.

"He tried a few times," Dumbledore said quietly. "But, it was the beginning of last year, when his followers began to gather again. Barty Crouch Jr. was the head of it all, after Peter Pettigrew broke out of Azkaban and helped his comrade."

Silence again. Dumbledore studied the woman as her mind visibly tried to comprehend where she stood in all this. The woman herself looked so familiar, yet try as he might, the professor couldn't put a name to the face. "Have I-" he started, thinking she was a past student, but she cut him off.

"I know where he is. Harry Potter."

Dumbledore stared at her. "…What…?"

"I know where he is. It's a school in America, a wizarding school. In…Maine, I think. Called something burnham. Garinburnham? Garinburm, maybe…"

"Garindahm?" Dumbledore supplied, to which the woman nodded.

"Yes. That's what they said."

"They? Who's they? And forgive me, madam, but who are _you_?"

"The Death Eaters I Apparated in on. I knew they'd know. They would've needed him for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's resurrection. We must find him. We must bring him here." The woman checked her watch. "I don't have much time. Not much time at all. It was different, it was all different. But if we get Harry back, then it'll all work out. Like it did before."

"Before? Before what? Please, madam, you must give me more to go on!"

The woman looked up at him. "I'd love to, Dumbledore. I really would. It's great to see you again. But you must get Harry. And then everything will fall into place, like before. It'll be better. I promise."

Before the Headmaster could do anything, the woman in front of him cracked like glass. He saw her smile, and then she fell to pieces, shards on the floor all over his office. She was hollow inside. Carefully, he picked up a piece. "Sharp as glass. A ticking time bomb of a curse…" Carefully, he guided all the pieces of the woman into a shimmering red silk bag, and placed it on his desk.

America, she had said. Even the name of the school itself. He still remembered the day he found out Harry was missing. He remembered the day he visited the Dursleys, the way Harry's uncle had been insolent and outraged, and the way his Aunt had cowered. The way his voice had boomed all up and down their quiet neighborhood, while Petunia just apologized in tears, she didn't know where they took him, and they didn't bother to find out where he went. Since that day, Dumbledore knew when the Second War came, they'd be unprepared.

And now they have him back. Or they might have him back, anyway. He'd have to go an meet with him, go to the American school and convince a seemingly normal boy of 15 that he was destined to come back to Britain where he'll fight a war that started years before he was born which will probably take away whatever friends he has and will have violently, all because he's the only one who can. All because, in all of Britain, there was just one boy that could ever defeat Lord Voldemort, and that boy has been living carefree for the last 5 years. Not knowing about his destiny, or the garbled up version of a joke the world is pulling on him.

Could he do that to the boy? Dumbledore wasn't sure. But he must. They'd be sending little Neville Longbottom to his death if Harry Potter doesn't step forward. And Neville would be just the beginning. Tiredly, and with a sigh, the man walked over to his fireplace, where the fire lit up green. Dumbledore stuck his head into it and peered into another Headmaster's office, the man behind the desk looking much younger and more than a little startled.

"I apologize for the late hour of this call. You must be Headmaster Knolling." The man on the other side nodded. "I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. I…do you have a student attending your school named Harry Potter, by any chance?"

Knolling put down the papers he was working on and sat back in his chair. "It's an honor to speak with you, Headmaster Dumbledore. But you must agree, I can't possibly give out such sensitive information when I am unsure that it is indeed you I am speaking with. We here in America, we're not out of the loop. We know Voldemort is back in Europe, and we know how he likes to extend his influence. So you will have to forgive me when I politely refuse to answer any of your questions until I am sure no harm will come to my school and its students because of my involvement with you."

"Of course. If you will, then, permit me to speak to you in person…"

Knolling considered this carefully, and then gave a slight nod. Dumbledore stepped through, allowing himself to be subjected to any revealing spells, questions, and potions until the other Headmaster was satisfied. Finally, the younger man offered a seat and sat down himself.

"I am sorry to ask, but Harry Potter…it is absolutely imperative that I find him and speak with him."

"Potter is, indeed, one of the students here. I'm not sure what you could possibly want with him, or what use he'd be to you. The boy has an unnerving amount of power, but his discipline is, at best, sorely lacking. The only time he's been able to focus on anything was when it involved a girl or Quidditch."

Dumbledore hesitated. To rip him from this… "Have there been any accidents? About a year ago?"

Knolling frowned slightly. "Yes, well, it seems he hit his head and gashed his arm pretty badly doing something or other. Probably flying around in the dark and ran into something. As he's got no money of his own, he's had to use the school's brooms, and those can be temperamental." He sighed. "Look, Headmaster, the boy's a normal teenage troublemaker. Been with us and the orphanage for four years now. Is there something I should know about?"

"You haven't noticed the scar?"

Knolling frowned. "The one on his forehead? Yes, I had. Which is why I thought it even more important that he have a normal life here, away from the Dark Lord. I'm sure you agree."

Dumbledore sighed. "I wish I did. You haven't told him anything about Voldemort, not even that he killed his parents?" The younger man seemed uncomfortable. "I ask this, Headmaster Knolling, because Harry Potter is desperately needed in England. You see, the young boy is our only hope at defeating Tom Riddle, even if he doesn't know it. He's got family there."

"There's also a war going on."

"A war that only he can stop. Please. I wouldn't be asking you this if there was another way."

Knolling brought his hand up over his eyes as he exhaled heavily. "Alright. I'll…I'll fill him in. Tell him everything. And then send him to meet with you. You can try to convince him to go back yourself, as well as fill him in on the recent developments. He will be continuing his education?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. At Hogwarts, under my close watch. Thank you, Headmaster. I hope to hear from you soon." With that, the old man departed the same way he had come in. So it was true, what the woman had said. Hopefully, Harry could also fix it, like she claimed. A week until school is in session again. Thankfully, Voldemort was still playing it close. It was only a matter of time before the massacres started up again, only this time he'll be followed by the forces that he's no doubt gathering this very minute. Maybe Harry would be enough. Maybe the Boy Who Lived will show up more serious than his Headmaster made him sound.

Maybe Harry won't resent Dumbledore, and the school, and all of England for taking his life away from him.

And maybe, Dumbledore thought for the first time in three years, just maybe we'll have a chance to win the war.

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**Sins of Angels**: So, no promises on how far this will go, but I've got a plan or two. Plus, can you tell I'm desperately fighting against writer's block? (and it's not a Marauder's era fanfic? Surely I must be coming down with something!) I don't have the books with me currently, but hopefully I won't be straying too far from them. Or, well, just far enough considering how AU this all is. You have been warned!


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